As observed from a desk on the second floor of the second last building on the perimeters of a megapolis

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Tuesday, July 06, 2010

DWellington!

We landed in Coimbatore - in anticipation of a pleasant meandering drive that would afford us fabulous views and even more fabulous opportunities to make our less blessed pals feel suitably jealous.

So, of course, the car did not arrive. It couldn’t - because our carefully laid plans had to go waste. I mean, what is the point of all that planning unless you indulge in a spot of self-commiseration?

Our car stayed stubbornly in the car carrier that had apparently been whisked off the face of the planet by forces unknown. All attempts to contact the aforesaid carrier having failed, we comforted ourselves with the thought that our car was getting the fabulous ’ride’ with a view from the exosphere thrown in for good measure.

Being the means to further intergalactic ties made us uncomplainingly bear the brunt of the merciless C sun, haggle with cranky cabbies and finally set off to Conoor. and then onwards to the Defence Services Staff College (Aka DSCC).

Arrive we did as did a weird demand – the driver demanded three dollars. Hmm…was the esteemed staff college a country upon itself, did it have its own government, its own currency and its own strange language, I marveled.

Apparently it was the latter.Three Dollars = Three Bottles. Bottles of Pril? Unfortunately not.

We, as faujis or navellas, who for all purposes sail on rivers of rum, bath in beer and wallow in whisky should act as benefactors, sharing our god given bounty with dhobis, gardeners and drivers alike. That was an unwritten albeit forced rule that we were being inculcated into. And as students are wont to do, we broke the rule.

We have been parting with hard cash and parting with gardeners ever since.Well meaning folk advise me to bottle up my feelings about the dollar but honestly this parallel currency is enough to make me take to the bottle.